


to the wights of hallowe’en

by love_killed_the_superstar



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dialogue Heavy, European Folklore, F/F, F/M, Fauns & Satyrs, Folklore, Gen, Halloween, Hidden Folk, Huldra, Huldra!Rapunzel, Huldrefolk, Multi, Samhain, Satyr!Eugene, Vampire!Cassandra, Vampires, european mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27319783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/love_killed_the_superstar/pseuds/love_killed_the_superstar
Summary: On a rainy Hallowe'en night, Eugene and Rapunzel decide to crash at Cassandra's place.
Relationships: Cassandra & Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider (Disney), Cassandra/Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Rapunzel, Cassandra/Rapunzel (Disney: Tangled)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 53





	to the wights of hallowe’en

**Author's Note:**

> Well damn, I didn’t expect myself to get so carried away with this tbh, I was only doing it for fun to begin with. But then I got sucked into RESEARCH and it ended up becoming A Whole Thing, just like every time I write Tangled fics. I enjoyed peppering in a lot of references to Samhain traditions since it’s supposedly the oldest version of Halloween in the books. Anyway, don’t take this fic too seriously or expect it to be some masterpiece, I was just having some fun imagining the ot3 as folklore beings just trying to have a relaxing night off on the most supernatural night of the year.

Hallowe'en is upon them once again.

The clock strikes upon the hour, and with it comes thunder that roars with a ferocity that tells a tale of the gods themselves, rife with fury. At least, it’s how the humanfolk would put it. But Eugene knows better, and so he pulls back the heavy velvet curtains, colour of wine, to observe through tall windows the state of the outside world. It’s hard to tell where the ink black sky ends and the forest begins; the rain is simply coming down too fast to make heads or tails of it. The humans in town will be breathing a sigh of relief, no doubt, even though the candles within their hollowed vegetable carvings won’t burn; for even they should know that the hidden folk of the world hate heavy rainfall as much as them.

At the final chime of the clock, there is a sharp knock at the door. He lays low, listening out for the visitor to knock again. If this is a human, or some other unwanted guest, the last thing he needs is for them to see a lone satyr in this isolated house, outside of his element and open to attack.

He is saved from that worry, however, by the thud of a foot kicking the front door loudly.

“Open the door, Eugene!”

He can’t help the grin sliding onto his face as he responds, “Who is it?”

“You know damn well who,” the voice snaps, with another rapping of knuckles against the wood. 

“Hidden folk have to take precautions!” he carries on gleefully, enjoying the huffing and puffing from just beyond the door far more than he really should. “You of all people should know that.”

“Well done, Eugene, you’re being real fucking  _ cautious! _ Now open the door or mark my words, I’ll kick it down!”

“Now, that doesn’t sound right,” he trills, shaking his head. “Isn’t it an unspoken rule that you can’t break down the door? I believe you have to be invited in?”

“EUGENE!”

Fine, he’s had his fun. Rolling his eyes, he unlatches the door and it swings open. A tall, dark-haired woman stands there, completely drenched from the rain. Her long black cloak sticks to her, water running off almost comically, and he feels just a tiny bit guilty for messing with her during the height of this storm.

“Cassandra! So wonderful to see you, please do come in!” he booms, taking a step back as she storms in, face more thunderous than the outside sky. He instinctively shrinks back at her piercing glare. “I take it you got what you needed, right? Because I warn you, I would  _ not _ make good food.”

“You’re right. If your blood didn’t taste so much like a goat’s ass, I’d consider it,” she snaps, stalking through to the parlour and throwing her cape onto the coat rack beside the entrance as she does. Her clothes beneath are still completely soaked through, sticking to her body like a second skin, and she stands there shivering for a few moments before sending him a withering glare. “Also, for your information, I have perfect authority to break down the door to my own home!”

“Yeah, but as long as someone else is present in the home, the invitation rule still applies, doesn’t it?” he reminds her, smirk only growing as she glowers at him. “Vampire loopholes, and all that.”

“I knew giving you a key was a mistake,” she hisses, baring her unnaturally sharp white canines at him in a grimace. “You’re actually the worst, you know that?”

“Oh, I’ve been told,” he says wryly. “Go on now, go change into something dry. You’re looking like a drowned rat. Or would it be a drowned  _ bat?” _

Cassandra flips him off with a venomous glare before shrinking down into the form of a small black bat. Her wet clothes slide off of her fur and fall into a heap on the ground, and she flits up the creaky weathered staircase and towards the master bedroom. He stares after her until she disappears from sight, and utters, “Man, she’s scary.”

Flipping his own finger to the empty space she was before, he picks up her saturated clothes from the floor and takes them back to the joint kitchen and scullery, throwing them into the laundry basin beside the shoe rack. He reaches for a candle on the kitchen counter and lights it, flooding the room with both comforting light and terrifying shadows.

“Come on, relax,” he mutters to himself. “It’s just a kitchen. No different at night than day.”

Cassandra’s place is always a bit creepy, to be honest. He hasn’t met many vampires in his lifetime (and in fact, Cass is the only one he knows well enough to be on friendly terms with) but he does know that they have a knack for living in creepy old houses, cut off from the rest of the world. Houses that are very, very good to steal from, especially if he can somehow trick the occupant into stepping outside long enough for him to slam the door shut on them.

He’s yet to hear the full tale of how Cassandra acquired this residence. From bits and pieces Rapunzel has told him, she came to this land with a fellow vampire, the whereabouts of whom he still hasn’t been clued in on. He can’t imagine Cass choosing to stay in a place like this for anything more than convenience’s sake; it feels barely lived in, and very grand for someone as pragmatic as her.

In comparison, Eugene is used to something a lot more rustic. As in, so rustic it’s half decently structured mut hut, half shallow cave with shitty insulation. Even then, it’s considered pretty ritzy for a satyr, being a woodland spirit and all, but Eugene has always enjoyed the finer things in life, such as a roof over his head when it’s storming out.

As if on cue a particularly strong lashing of rain splatters against the window and he jumps a mile at the sound, hand to his chest. Okay, being in a house this hauntingly quiet and empty is really starting to get to him. Still, he supposes it’s a better alternative to standing out in the elements.

He wonders how Rapunzel is faring.

He hasn’t seen her in a few days. Whenever she feels particularly creative, she has a knack for disappearing into the deeper parts of the woods for days at a time, needing isolation for the creative process. Still, he figures in conditions such as these, she’d have come over sooner. Perhaps she’s taking refuge in a hollowed out tree? Huddling in a cave, or taking shelter back at his place until there’s a lull in the rain for her to run through?

Eugene wishes he had a sixth sense for these kinds of things. He may be wise in a more abstract sense, but precognition has never been something satyrs are blessed with. During moments like these, the prophetic Cassandra of mythos would be far more handy to be acquainted with than the shitty vampire equivalent. Not that he’d ever say that to her face, of course.

Hearing footsteps above his head, Eugene remembers his task at hand. Rooting around in the cupboards, he soon finds what he’s looking for; a bottle of red wine, shoved right at the back of the bottom cupboard and slightly dusty from the lack of interest on Cass’s part. Atop the stove sits a barmbrack loaf that he baked earlier that day, still slightly warm, with a lucky coin stuffed somewhere inside.

Cass is just descending the staircase as he moves through to the parlour, wine tucked under his arm as he sets the barmbrack loaf down on the coffee table in front of the fireplace. She’s a little dressed up, Eugene is delighted to see, in a ruby-coloured silken waistcoat and white cravat, and as always, wearing her signature black gloves. Her hair still hangs slightly damp against her cheekbones.

“A barmbrack?” she questions, eyebrows raised. “You and Rapunzel actually  _ indulge  _ in Hallowe'en traditions?”

“Why not?” Eugene asks absently, ferrying himself between the kitchen and parlour for plates and wine glasses. She trails into the parlour and flops down on one of the dark velvet couches.

“Huh, I don’t know, Eugene. Maybe because it’s a night of the year that puts us directly at odds with the humanfolk?”

“Oh, they don’t care about us spirits,” he dismisses, poking around in her drawers in search of cutlery. “Well, beyond leaving some crops out for us as offerings. They’re worried about, you know, the restless undead and stuff.”

Cass barks out a laugh without an inch of humour to it. “Oh, no need to worry then! It’s not like either of us are vampires or anything!”

Eugene stops his search and turns to her, where she gives him a short wave.

He winces. “Right. Vampire. Okay, I get it, you have reason to dislike the principle of this day. But we can still make a fun night of it! Or at least, you know… hang out.”

“Hang out,” scoffs Cass. “Where is Rapunzel, anyway? I only agreed to get together because she twisted my arm.”

Eugene looks mock-offended and puts a hand to his chest indignantly. “What? I’m not good enough for you? It is a privilege - nay, an  _ honour  _ \- to be in the presence of a satyr such as myself-”

“Riiight. An absolutely upstanding satyr who has a reputation for robbing people.”

She moves to the seat closest to the fireplace, reaching for the poker and beginning to nudge the wood around, as he splutters at her remark.

“Okay, ouch! I  _ used  _ to rob people. I’m a changed man! Also, didn’t  _ you  _ steal this house from somebody? My crimes, in comparison, are pretty minor.”

Cassandra purses her lips and keeps her eyes trained on the temperamental fire.

“My  _ mother  _ stole this house,” she says finally. “Not me.”

“And I’m supposing the former occupant died a bloody, bloody death?” he guesses. When she stays silent, he takes that as a yes. “I’d still wager your family’s crimes amount to more than mine.”

“Look, Eugene, the difference between satyrs and vampires is like night and day,” she snaps, tossing another small fire log into the flames. “You’re a spirit, people leave you offerings and shit. You don’t  _ have  _ to steal from others!”

“Neither do you! I understand that blood is a necessity for you, but stealing houses?”

“That was my mother’s decision!”

They both stare at each other, eyes narrowed, neither willing to give in. Finally, Cass pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs loudly.

“She’s out of the picture now,” she explains. “I can’t take back what she… what  _ we _ did. But I don’t do that sort of thing anymore, all right?”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “All right, fine. I’m sorry.”

Cass nods, then mutters gruffly, “Me too. If  _ I’m _ changed for the better, I’ll try to believe the best of you too.”

“Who’d have thought satyrs and vampires would end up clashing, right?” Eugene muses, and she laughs.

“Like I said. We’re like night and day to each other.”

“Then what does that make Rapunzel?” he asks. Cass hums, stroking her chin.

“Neither,” she decides at last. “Or both. She’s… liminal.”

As if on cue, a sharp tap at the door interrupts the both of them, and they turn to stare at it for a beat before Cass immediately darts to her feet.

Brushing down her waistcoat, she glances towards the mirror hanging in the parlour. Sure, the lack of reflection means that she can’t know for sure how she looks right now, but at least she can tell that her _clothes_ look immaculate. Exhaling, she strides over to the door and unlatches it. As she pulls on the handle, the first she sees is golden hair, tumbling down the back of the fair maiden standing before her. It falls just shy of her bare feet, which are caked in mud. Just below the hem of her skirt, the end of a cow’s tail swishes in excitement.

Cass taps her shoulder. “Rapunzel?”

The maiden turns, and her smile is so infectious Cassandra can’t help but grin back.

“Oh Cassandra! Happy Hallowe'en!” She throws her arms around her with such force Cass stumbles back, and holds her gently as to not press inwards on her back.

“Happy and Hallowe'en don’t go together in my vocabulary, Raps,” Cassandra retorts, pushing the door shut behind them. She pulls back. “You’re absolutely soaked.”

“I know! Sorry, I know I’m late, but I was in the middle of something,” Rapunzel rambles, fishing around in the pocket of her pale purple dress. The very sight of the dress, completely drenched and spattered with mud, is intriguing to Cassandra. Huldrefolk, as far as she can ascertain, tend to wander the forests bare; has she been into town? “You see, I was working on some of my tree sculptures, but it really started to rain and then I remembered I had to get something for tonight!”

“From the marketplace?” Cass questions, taking Rapunzel’s pretty pink cloak, also stained with dirt, to hang up beside her own. “Surely it was closed this late since it’s Hallowe'en and all. I barely got to the barber’s in time, myself…”

“No, from the crop fields!” she exclaims, eyes twinkling with excitement. “Got what I was looking for, and then headed back to the forest to continue my project.”

“Whatever it was, couldn’t it have waited?” Cass asks, concerned. She motions for Eugene to fetch a wet cloth from the kitchen to wipe off the soles of Rapunzel’s feet. “You’ll catch your death in these conditions.”

Rapunzel has the gall to laugh at her at that.

“My death? Sweetheart, you’re forgetting that I am a creature of the outdoors. I can handle  _ anything  _ mother nature throws at me.”

“Well, your pet satyr had me convinced otherwise.”

“Pet?!” demands Eugene, marching over to them with a bemused look on his face, damp cloth and bucket in his hands. “Come on, that’s just demeaning.”

Rapunzel giggles and hugs him tightly.

“Eugene! Happy Hallowe'en!”

“Happy Hallowe'en,” he echoes, arms splayed out as she embraces him to keep the bucket from tipping. “Och, Sunshine, you’re sopping wet. What was this about an art project?”

“Right! My project!”

Cassandra takes her by the shoulders and marches her back into the hallway, sitting her down on a narrow wooden bench by the shoe rack. As Eugene begins to wipe the mud and dirt from her feet, Rapunzel once again reaches into the pocket of her dress. When she pulls back her hand, she holds out what looks to be some sort of root vegetable, carved up into an interesting rendition of Eugene’s head.

He stares at it blankly.

“It’s you!” Rapunzel fills in helpfully, beaming from ear to ear. “Come on, don’t you just love it? And here, Cassandra, don’t think I forgot about you…”

Cass is gifted with her own vegetable carving.

“Um. Thank you for the swede,” Cass says with uncertainty, moving into the parlour to set it down beside the barmbrack loaf. Rapunzel rolls her eyes fondly.

“They’re  _ turnips, _ silly,” she says, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Of course! Turnips. I knew that!” Eugene says with a sheepish laugh that indicates his bullshit. Cass shakes her head.

“All right. Thanks for the turnip, Raps. It really… captures my bone structure?” she offers. Rapunzel grins and stands on tiptoes to kiss her cheek.

“Doesn’t it?! You’re so sweet. But all right, you both have a point. I do seem to be dripping onto the floor,” she admits, staring down at the puddle gathering beneath her. “Think I can borrow some clothes?”

Cass shrugs. “Sure thing. Eugene, you know what to do.”

“Tch, since when did I become your scullery maid?” he complains, holding out his arms nonetheless.

Rapunzel steps out of her wet clothes and hands them to him with a giggle, before following Cassandra up the staircase towards her bedroom.

“Why’d you put on your dress anyway?” Cass asks, eyebrows raised. “Since you were digging around in the mud and all.”

“Because I wanted to be all dressed up to see you!” Rapunzel protests. “It’s not everyday we get to spend the night at Chateau Cassandra!”

With a faint laugh, Cass stops in front of the door, gesturing for Raps to enter first. “Well, I don’t get many visitors, so… stay as long as you like, I guess.”

She lingers in the doorway, staring at the dark, empty room as Rapunzel marches on in with purpose. It’s strange, seeing someone else standing there. After taking over the house six years ago, it still barely feels like her own.

Rapunzel is already wringing her hair out into a towel snatched from Cassandra’s wardrobe. The hair being pulled aside draws Cass’s attention to her back, and as always, she’s captivated by the hollowness of it. Before taking over this house in Old Corona, she’d never even  _ heard  _ of huldra or skogsrå before. They simply hadn’t existed in the parts of Europe she’d travelled through previously. Even after her mother, a fearsome vampire of legend known as Gothel, drained the previous occupant of this grand old house and claimed it as their own, it had taken over a year for the forest folk to show themselves to Cass. She’d expected no different, really. After all, huldrefolk and vampires being  _ friends? _ There was no sense to it at all.

Still, for some reason Rapunzel had taken a shine to her, even once knowing of the darkness and death that followed her wherever she went. The first time Cassandra had seen her hollowed back, resembling that of a decaying tree trunk, she had gasped aloud. It was the first time she truly understood that darkness sought Rapunzel out too, yet granted her a choice in how she let it define her.

Hidden creatures don’t  _ have  _ to leave destruction in their wake.

From that day onward, Cassandra had started to approach the town’s barber.

“Cass?”

She’s drawn from her thoughts as Rapunzel turns around. Now instead of the withered hollowness of her back, she’s faced with the pleasant sight of her chest.

“Yes?” she murmurs. Rapunzel playfully reaches to tilt her face upwards.

“My eyes are up here,” she says pertly, leaning forward to kiss her on the nose before standing back. “Now, what should I wear?”

Cassandra’s eyes flicker to the open wardrobe. There isn’t much there in all honesty. There are a few pressed shirts and waistcoats, with detached collars and cufflinks; a faded nightgown, riddled with holes and a size too small from having been owned since she was a teenager; a few of her mother’s gaudy, overly extravagant gowns, untouched since Cass had dealt with her the year prior; and lastly, two underwhelming gowns of hers that she’d seldom thought about since becoming the sole homeowner and living by her  _ own  _ set of rules, attire included.

She reaches for one of the dresses - a simple gown the colour of moss, accented with a small ivy-like pattern at the hem - and hands it to her.

“How’s… how’s this?” she asks hesitantly. It isn’t particularly impressive, she knows. Gothel always had a habit of dressing Cassandra rather plainly, as though hoping to make herself more impressive by comparison. Still, on Rapunzel she imagines it would come to life, as though she were wearing the forest itself. It’s funny, how even something as static as a garment can seemingly change form when paired with the right disposition.

Rapunzel beams. “This is yours? It’s beautiful! Wait, were you wearing this the day we met?”

Cass shrugs, staring at the floor.

“Probably. I didn’t have much to wear, really, before I…” She trails off, reaching instinctively for her hand.  _ The burned one. _ “...Before she died,” she says instead.

Rapunzel notices and quickly reaches up to cup Cassandra’s jaw, tilting her head up. Her eyes could probably melt even the most withered of hearts, Cassandra thinks.

_ After all, they melted mine. _

“Hey. I’m sorry. It brought up bad memories, right?” she murmurs, and Cass leans into her touch and exhales.

“Maybe. Look, it’s fine, I just… I’m not used to the house being so occupied. It’s been silent since she was killed. I still feel like I’m just living in  _ her _ house. This place… it’s too big for one person.”

Rapunzel smiles at her softly. “Not just one person anymore.”

“Oh, you and your satyr husband are moving in, then?” Cass asks dryly. “Good to know.”

“Only sometimes! Huldrefolk don’t just walk away from the forest, after all.” She kisses Cassandra softly and murmurs, “And only if my vampire wife is okay with it.”

Cass leans forward to deepen the kiss, absently moving her hands upwards from her waist, and Rapunzel jumps with a sharp gasp as Cass’s hands accidentally slide against the hollow of her back.

“Sorry!” Cass says quickly, pulling her hands away and holding them up in surrender. Rapunzel shudders and laughs, her tail flicking with each gasp of air.

“That surprised me! It’s very sensitive, sorry.”

“No, no, that was my bad…”

They both burst out laughing.

Rapunzel slips on the dress and a pair of stockings, and allows Cass to  _ carefully, carefully _ lace up the back of the dress, loose enough that the fabric folds don’t ghost too deep into the crevice of her back. Once Rapunzel is satisfied, she takes Cassandra by the hand and leads her down the stairs to where Eugene has finished mopping up the puddle Rapunzel left behind.

“Having fun, ladies?” He calls, returning the bucket and mop to the scullery. “Let me guess, Cass was showing you her collection of poisons and cobwebs and animal bones and whatever else vampires like to collect?”

Rapunzel laughs. “That’s right. Cass was just showing me some human sacrifice mementos, weren’t you?” Rapunzel asks sweetly, squeezing her hand. Cass smirks.

“Yup. The mantelpiece is looking a bit empty without a pair of satyr hooves as decoration, though, don’t you think?”

He fixes Cassandra with a stern look. “Look, Cass, I know you’re kidding, but my brother actually got hunted down by poachers when I was a child, so…”

Cass, sticken, freezes on the spot.

“Shit. Really? I - I didn’t-” Now it’s Eugene’s turn to smirk, and she curses. “...You made up that incident, didn’t you?”

“Made up the  _ brother, _ too.”

“Okay, not funny, goat-ass.”

“Eh, it was a little funny. You’re not the only ones with morbid humour.”

He pours out two glasses of wine, handing one off to Rapunzel, and passes an empty glass to Cassandra, who goes to fetch an opaque bottle from the pocket of her cloak. Once her own glass is filled with dark blood, the three of them raise their glasses in a toast.

“To the wights of Hallowe'en,” Eugene declares with a grin, gesturing around the circle. “Hidden folk, undead, and any other outliers.”

“To the wights,” Rapunzel and Cassandra echo. They each sip from their glasses and take a seat in front of the fireplace. Eugene gaze lingers on Cass’s glass for a few moments, wrestling with his own morbid curiosity, before he asks outright, “So we’ve been friends for a while, but I’ve never really thought to ask. Where do you get the blood from, anyway?”

Cassandra’s eyes glint with mischief. “Oh, I mutilated a satyr earlier in the woods. Hung him up and bled him dry.”

Eugene shudders instinctively, before retorting, “No you didn’t! …You didn’t, right?”

She rolls her eyes, hard. “No, Eugene, I didn’t. I went to the barber’s.”

“The barber’s? As in, friendly guy who talks too much and cuts your hair? What, did he mistake you for a dude in need of a trim and you gutted him for it?”

“Eugene, Cass wouldn’t do that!” admonishes Rapunzel, fixing him with a disapproving look, but Cassandra only bursts out laughing. She holds onto her side until her giggles subside, before shaking her head.

“No, you moron, he’s the bloodletter of the village.”

“Bloodletting, huh.” He sits back, contemplating her answer for a moment. “But wait, isn’t that like… diseased or infected blood?”

“Undead people can’t get sick, satyr,” Cass deadpans. “One of the few perks, I suppose.”

Eugene hums and nods. “Huh, good to know. So if that’s from a bloodletting,” he muses, “doesn’t sucking someone’s blood turn them?”

“What is this, an interrogation?!”

“I’m just curious about how it all works! I don’t exactly know any other vampires to ask all this stuff. You happen to be the only vampire I’ve met who hasn’t made it their business to try and kill me!”

“Well, you’re on some thin ice.” She sighs deeply before turning to him. “I don’t just grab someone’s arm and start draining them,” Cass explains slowly, as though she’s talking to a child. “The barber carries out the letting, collects the blood and passes it onto me in exchange for my protection.”

“How does  _ that  _ work?”

“Oh, you know, if livestock start going missing or someone in the village winds up dead, I investigate. Take care of the threat if need be. I’m pretty skilled with a sword.” She motions to a tall cupboard beside the grandfather clock, containing a small armoury.

“A sword-wielding vampire,” he marvels, shaking his head. “I always forget just how batshit wild you are. How are you a real person?”

“I’m not,” she says with a wry smile. “Haven’t you heard? I’m undead.”

They clink their glasses together with matching grins, and she takes another sip of blood. Eugene downs the rest of his glass and refills, before picking up the hand-crafted bread knife set aside on the coffee table. “Now, barmbrack time! Everyone feeling hungry?”

“I sure am!” Rapunzel squeals. “Did you make it yourself?”

“I did! Baked it in Cass’s kitchen while she was out grabbing some blood. Cass, you in?”

“Sure, but only one slice. Too much of anything besides blood makes me queasy.”

“Noted. This is only for the game, anyway!” He slices the first piece and puts it on his own plate, glancing down at it before sighing in disappointment. “Wasn’t me, then. Oh well!”

“What wasn’t you?” Cassandra asks, brow marred with a frown.

“Well, there’s a coin stuffed inside,” he explains. “That’s the whole purpose of the barmbrack loaf! Well, there’s supposed to be other stuff in there too, but I’m not about to shove in a trinket that could doom my union to Rapunzel, right? So I only kept the best one in - a coin to represent good fortune for the year!”

“It’s not silver, right?” Cass frets. “Silver is toxic to vampires.”

“Oh man. I’m guessing  _ that's _ why your cutlery looks so…” He gestures loosely to the scattering of improvised knives and forks on the table, a grin widening on his face.

“Yes? We had to pawn the silverware when we moved in,” she explains, brow furrowed in confusion at his expression. “I made those myself, from pewter.”

He nods, still trying not to laugh at the sorry state of them. “Right, right. Of course.”

“I think they look good!” Rapunzel cuts in quickly, determined to keep the peace. She picks up one of the forks and examines it up close, humming in appreciation. “I can tell you worked hard on them.”

“Thanks, Raps. By the way, satyr, you should also know,” Cass says towards Eugene, with a touch of venom in her tone, “if I touch silver it gives me a hell of a burn, and if I ingest it I vomit for days. It’s  _ serious.” _

Eugene pulls a face. “Groady, didn’t need to know that! You’ll be pleased to know it’s bronze. I was too cheap to spring for silver. Anyway! You’re up next.”

He passes a slice to her, and she pokes at it in search of a glint of a bronze coin. Finding none, she cuts off a piece and sticks it in her mouth.

“You know, I’m surprised a woodland spirit like yourself would be such a snob about things like silverware,” Cass says nonchalantly, around her mouthful of barmbrack. Eugene scoffs.

“I’m not a  _ snob, _ I’m just calling it like it is. I used to make a pretty penny from whittling cutlery from wood, you know. I’ll make you a set some time.”

“You don’t have to,” Cass says quickly. The last thing she needs, she reminds herself, is to be indebted to anybody.  _ Especially  _ Eugene, who will absolutely lord it over her head for years to come.

She swallows. “This actually tastes pretty good.”

“Thank you!” he says smugly. “Nobody bakes like a satyr, that’s what I always say.”

“Oh, I’ve never heard that one before. That a rumour you’re trying to get started?”

“Shut up, it’ll catch on!” he retorts. “Anyway, Sunshine’s turn!”

He slices off a piece for her, and she prods at it in search of a coin before shrugging and smiling.

“Looks like I wasn't lucky, either.”

“Are you sure you remembered to put it in, Eugene?” Cass teases.

“I did!” He defends. "We all just have crappy luck, turns out.”

“Well, creatures of the night live a cursed life,” Cass says vacantly, but without her having to state it, Rapunzel knows that those words aren’t her own; rather, words that have been hammered into her mind from a young age.

“That isn’t true,” Rapunzel says, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “We are  _ all  _ beings of this earth. If we don’t get the coin, we’ll make our good fortune in other ways, won’t we?”

Cass looks up, as though snapping out of her thoughts, and offers her a smile.

“All right, I hear you, but look at us! A huldra, a vampire and a satyr, hiding out from the rain and the humanfolk in a shitty old house.”

“Hiding?” Eugene scoffs, puffing out his chest. “I prefer to think of it as picking our battles.”

“I don’t hide.” Rapunzel munches on her slice thoughtfully. “I help them, where I can.”

“Sure, sure, you watch their kilns for them and all that, but I’d still argue we keep away for a reason, Sunshine,” Eugene points out.

“You wouldn’t dress up and hide your tail if you had nothing to fear, right?” Cass adds. At that, Rapunzel’s tail thumps angrily against the upholstery.

“I do that so I don’t alarm people,” she retorts. “It’s  _ completely  _ different.”

She eats the rest of her food in stubborn silence, with Cass and Eugene exchanging exasperated looks.

Finally, Cassandra clears her throat.

“So. Do all forest spirits celebrate Hallowe’en?” she questions, scraping up some stray crumbs with the edge of her fork. “Because as a vampire, the idea is ludicrous to me.”

Rapunzel taps her chin in thought. “I’m not too sure.  _ We  _ do, but I think opinions vary.”

“I mean, we forest spirits do have a pretty sweet end of the deal,” Eugene offers. “We don’t hassle the humanfolk and in return they leave us a small portion of their crops. So, free food in exchange for sitting back and  _ not  _ haunting people? It’s kind of a win-win.”

“That does sound like an easy scoring of food,” Cassandra agrees. “See, people aren’t exactly jumping for joy to leave portions of their blood for me to collect, and some of the bolder shitheads of this town tried to organise a ‘vampire hunt’ last year, so I’m not exactly over the moon when this day rolls around.”

“They what?!” Rapunzel cries, leaning over to squeeze her hand. Her eyes swim with concern, and it melts Cassandra’s heart a little. “You never told me about that!”

“There really wasn’t anything to tell,” Cass reassures her. “They don’t even know where I live, so all they were doing was running around the streets of their own town shouting for me to show myself. As if I was going to go out there and disembowel a bunch of sixteen-year-olds.”

“I would have, those kids sound like real idiots,” Eugene laughs.

“They don’t understand,” Rapunzel says with a frown. She stands up and marches over to where her cloak hangs, returning a moment later with yet another turnip. The other two, moved by Eugene while they’d been upstairs, stare hauntingly from the mantelpiece. “If they knew what you were really like - what any of us are really like…”

“It’s in everyone’s best interests if we keep separate,” Eugene reminds her. “Humans know better than to wrong a forest spirit, it’s just… they don’t care so much when it comes to beings that feed on them, no matter the circumstances. That’s just how it is.”

“Well, why?” she demands, plunging one of Cassandra’s improvised knives into the base of the turnip to begin hollowing it out. “Surely, if they knew how we really were, we could all learn to live together peacefully! They wouldn’t feel obligated to hand over a portion of their harvest, and we could just… be! Without the threat of being hunted down just because they don’t understand us!”

“Raps, I don’t need to be liked by them,” Cass says quickly. “Honest. The people who matter to me know who I am. That’s all I need.”

She reaches across to ruffle the top of her head, and Rapunzel peers back with big, frustrated eyes.

“I just wish they could see you like I do,” she says sadly.

“Well, then I’d have the whole town swooning as I walk by, and how would I step over all those bodies to hit up the bloodletter, huh?” Cass remarks.

“Wow, someone thinks she’s popular,” Eugene drawls, and Rapunzel can’t help but laugh. She returns her attention back to her whittling, twisting her body to position herself facing the parlour mirror, and Eugene leans forward.

“Self-portrait?” he guesses.

“I was going to finish it before arriving, but by the time I’d finished both of yours, I was soaked,” she explains. Her tongue peeps out slightly from between her teeth as she works. “I always find it much harder to capture my own likeness.”

“They do say a huldra’s beauty can’t be accurately depicted,” Eugene says sagely, and Rapunzel giggles, shaking her head.

“You’re sweet. I think it’s more a case of being unable to see myself as I am, because I’m so familiar with myself. Does that make sense?”

“Not really. But then again, I don’t have a reflection to begin with,” Cass muses, taking a sip of blood. Rapunzel doesn’t respond, seemingly caught up in studying her own features and bringing them to fruition on the surface of the turnip in her hands. Her brow wrinkles a little as she works; her teeth gnaw on her lower lip in concentration. Cass feels as though she could watch this for hours.

“Well, as fascinating as this is, I think it’s time to get this party started, don’t you?”

Eugene reaches over into his small leather satchel and rummages around for a few moments, before exclaiming, “Aha!” and retrieving his panpipes with a flourish that has Cassandra groaning.

“Wow. Satyr with panpipes? What a stereotype.”

“I don’t think an emotionally-stunted vampire who lives in a creepy old house can talk to me about stereotypes,” he retorts. “Besides, what’s a party without a little music?”

“This is really a party, then?” Cass asks doubtfully, sipping from her glass once more. “Not just an excuse to wait out the storm and the liminal hours with someone who can protect you from any angry humanfolk?”

“Cass, come on!” Rapunzel says with a grin, nudging her slightly. She’s still whittling away at the turnip in her hand, although the speed at which she works is pretty incredible; Cass can already make out basic facial features and a first attempt at hair. “We’re all here to have a good time. I know you’re feeling tense tonight, but that’s all the more reason to unwind, isn’t it?”

“I suppose…”

The music starts up in a crescendo, and he slams both feet on the ground in a dramatic beat. From there on, it picks up. Cass is, dare she say, impressed; he can not only carry a tune, but is a decent player at that, and using his hooves as a percussion instrument is pretty crafty of him. Rapunzel’s face brightens, and she sets her vegetable carving to one side and leaps to her feet, extending her hand out to Casssandra.

“May I have this dance?”

“Uh, I don’t know…”

“You know,” Rapunzel says thoughtfully, “we huldrefolk have a remedy for warding off unfriendly entities. It’s all about dancing.”

“What classifies as an unfriendly entity to you, Raps?” Cass asks with a wry smile. “Because…” She gestures vaguely at herself.

“It’s what we fear in our hearts,” Rapunzel declares. “I could never be afraid of you! It keeps the ones you love close, and the ones you don’t far from you.”

She bats her eyes at Cassandra, hoping her huldra charms will swing in her favour tonight, and to her glee she sees Cass fold in front of her, sighing in an exaggerated fashion before taking her hand. Rapunzel pulls her to her feet and steers her to a spot in the parlour where they have some room to move. Eugene’s playing slows a little, giving them both the time to match their steps to one another. Rapunzel pulls her in a little closer at the waist, and Cass’s breath hitches in her throat.

“You look nervous,” Rapunzel says coyly. “Been a while since a pretty lady took you for a dance?”

“I don’t get many determined enough to ask,” Cass admits. She cocks an eyebrow. “You, on the other hand, look right at home. I suppose it’s a huldra’s nature to be able to sweep someone off their feet?”

“Hey, I’m a very nice huldra,” Rapunzel protests. “I’ve never  _ needed  _ to seduce anybody. The people I love always found a way of gravitating to me all on their own. Didn’t they?”

She sends Eugene a knowing look, and he breaks playing just long enough to utter breathlessly, “You know it, Sunshine.”

Rapunzel turns her attention back to Cass, who is chuckling to herself.

“You’re really something, you know that?”

Stretching her arm back for a twirl, Rapunzel lands herself against Cassandra’s chest and looks up at her with a smug smile.

“I’ve been told.”

She stands up on her tiptoes and kisses Cass, first on the lips, then moving along her cheek and to her jaw, kissing downwards, downwards…

Cass gasps sharply as Rapunzel nibbles lightly on her neck, and the music abruptly stops once more.

“I saw that! Hey, professional bloodletter, tell Rapunzel she’s doing it wrong.”

“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, Eugene,” Cass responds automatically, and he flips her off before continuing to play. She shivers pleasantly and beams down at Rapunzel. “So, kissing is part of the ward?”

“Hmm?”

Rapunzel blinks a few times, head tilting in confusion, before realising what Cass is getting at. By that point, Cass has already twigged. With a roll of her eyes, she asks, “...There is no dancing remedy, is there?”

“All right, all right, I made it up,” Rapunzel admits, laughing sheepishly. “But hey, you’re dancing with me, aren’t you?”

Taking a step back, she twirls Rapunzel, pulling her back in with an expression on her face somewhere between disappointment that she’d fallen for such an obvious ploy and awe that Rapunzel had attempted to dupe her.

“You really wanted to dance with me that badly?”

“I did.” Rapunzel leans in close and kisses her cheek. “You know, there’s a dance hall in the next town over where we wouldn’t be recognised. Vardaros. Take me there some time soon?”

Cass shivers and blurts out, “Of course. Some time. Any time.”

They dance for a while longer, talking of nothing at all, until Cassandra takes a step back. She decides to take the opportunity to set alight some smaller candles, placing them with great finesse inside the hollow turnip carvings of their heads. They glow ominously, and it’s a… strange feeling, to say the least. She’s so used to running through the streets under the cover of darkness, Hallowe’en after Hallowe’en, seeing those winking candlelit grimaces everywhere she turns. They watch her, these Jack-O-Lanterns, taunt her, warn her that she isn’t wanted here, she daren’t go near… a wretched creature like her…

It’s a different sensation, staring at these lovingly crafted sculptures in front of her, made to  _ celebrate  _ the wights of the world rather than renounce them.

Feeling a tad bit overwhelmed all of a sudden, Cassandra retires back to the couch again, refilling her glass. The bitterness of blood grounds her to the moment, keeps her from floating away like when she’d been in Rapunzel’s arms. Instead, she watches on silently as Rapunzel dances on her own. The song Eugene plays now is upbeat, almost a jig; Rapunzel, eyes shut, twirls as though nobody is watching. The skirt of that ivy green dress swirls around her legs, giving her the illusion of a cloth on a line, and every so often Cass will catch a glimpse of her tail, flicking in giddiness. Commanding the room as Eugene plays on, watching her with equal adoration to Cass, Rapunzel looks right at home.

_ Home? _

This house has never really felt like a home until now. Now, with the warmth of a fire blazing, of candles burning; now, with the scent of barmbrack and wine, the musical whimsy of panpipes; now, with Rapunzel's giggles and Eugene's dry commentary dancing from wall to wall, embedding in each crack in the wood, each chip in the tile.

Absently, Cass takes off another slice of the barmbrack loaf, eyes still following Rapunzel as she patters around the parlour to the thrum of the pipes, almost in a trance. But something catches her eye and she stops, grinning from ear-to-ear, and points directly at Cass.

“Look at you!”

The music comes to an end and Cass blinks, bewildered, before Eugene reaches over to clap her on the back.

“Looks like you won, after all.”

Cassandra glances down to her plate and sees a dull bronze coin winking faintly back at her.

“Well, what do you know. You did remember to put it in.”

He plants his hands on his hips. “I told you I did, didn't I?!”

“You know what that means,” sighs Rapunzel, traipsing back over to the couches and perching beside Cass. "A year of good fortune ahead!”

“Or wealth. It's either-or. A coin toss, if you will,” Eugene adds unhelpfully, grinning in triumph at his own unfunny joke.

“Well, I'm not sure I believe in finding a coin in a loaf of bread determining my fortune for the year,” Cass begins.

“Wow. Cass, being a pessimist? Colour me surprised,” Eugene mutters.

“But,” she says sharply, ignoring him, “I do believe in forging my own luck. And… I wouldn't have, if I hadn't met Rapunzel.”

“I never  _ fixed _ you, if that's what you mean,” Rapunzel says gently, reaching to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Cassandra's ear. Her eyes are all smiles, however. “You determined your own destiny. All on your own.”

“See, that's where you're wrong, though. I did feel like I was on my own, for a long time,” Cass admits, forcing herself to keep eye contact.  _ Don't break the thread… don't lose your nerve. _ “But it was meeting you that showed me I had that choice to make. Not being alone anymore was what gave me the drive to do something for myself.”

Rapunzel leans forward, lips pressing against Cassandra's brow. She stays there, the silence stretching on as she breathes in Cass's scent, before pulling back.

“You changed because you always had that strength within you. I'm glad to have played a part in that story, but I was never the driving force.”

_ Agree to disagree. _ Cass's eyes flutter shut and she says, soft enough for only Rapunzel to hear, “Traditions don't give me fortune, the people around me do. So I believe this next year will be a good one. Maybe even the  _ best _ one.”

Rapunzel hugs her tight, kissing the top of her head over and over again.

“Wait, what happened? What did she say?” Eugene demands.

“That she loves us,” Rapunzel says without hesitation, before continuing her kissing attack on Cassandra.

“Even me?”

“Even you.”

“Gross! I know we satyrs have unprecedented sex appeal but I am  _ so  _ not interested. Hey, Count Cassandra, you gonna eat that?”

“Will it shut you up if I just hand it over?” Cass retorts, lacking the usual flare of irritation. She thrusts the plate towards him and he takes it without complaint, watching on in amusement as the two women continue their romantic gestures.

Tucking into the slice, Eugene glances over his shoulder at the large grandfather clock.

“Well, ladies, the liminal hours are almost over. How would you rate this Hallowe’en?” he asks.

“Pretty good,” Cass says, in between kissing Rapunzel.

“Best Hallowe’en,” Rapunzel agrees, in between kissing Cassandra.

“So glad we all had fun,” he snorts. “Now, this is getting me queasy, so…”

He picks up the panpipes and blows a C as loud as he can, causing the two women to startle and spring apart. Both turn to fix him with disapproving looks.

“You know you’re an ass?” Cass demands. He grins.

“Actually, I’m a goat,” he says proudly, blowing on his pipes again as Cass opens her mouth to give a cutting reply. Rapunzel starts to giggle, and then melts into full blown laughter. Cass, stern at first, soon catches on and dissolves into her own chuckles, which spreads to Eugene. They barely hear the clock strike midnight over the din of their own uproar of laughter, filling the house with echoes of joy as Hallowe’en night draws to a close.

It’s a sound that, Cassandra reckons, she could certainly learn to love.

**Author's Note:**

> Realised, as I was putting the finishing touches on this, I really just fluffed almost 8k words about these three bantering and doing basically nothing, lmao. If that's your cup of tea, great. If not, I can only apologise.  
> I feel like I peppered in just enough hints and clues to tell a vague story about the cassunzel meet-cute, but lmk if that's something you'd want to read, I might feel like writing it some day!! I'm like, surprisingly soft for vamp!cass so I'd be down to write more of her.  
> Hope you enjoyed this! Feel free to let me know what you thought!


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